Author Archives: dogpossum

the Squeeze declares

The Squeeze has declared that there shall be no:

  • tutting
  • shuffling
  • hand wringing
  • shouting
  • screaming
  • huffing
  • subvocalising about Jesus, Young People, National Pride or Noise

on the tram. I’m not sure how he plans to enforce this, though I’m sure mimi smartypants could offer suggestions as a fellow PT stooge.
I, on the other hand, never seem to notice these PT crazy people, mostly because I read a book so I can tune out and not hear anything or anyone on the bus (which is why I don’t see the point of ipods – a book is far more interesting and effective a crazy-person deterrant). Or else I ride my bike.

Buffy season 3

Season 3 of Buffy has us in hand. It’s my sixty millionth time through the Buffy series, but The Squeeze hasn’t seen them all. We’re enjoying them very much, though our viewing has synchronised with someone else who’s borrowing them from the video shop*. We watch them faster than they do, but they keep them out for the whole week and won’t let us get ahead – whenever we make a preemptive strike and borrow the couple of discs ahead of them, they retaliate and take the next two. Which sucks, as we’re done with ours in less than a week, while they keep them for the whole week.
We’re nearly at the end (just one or two discs to go), and then we’ll start getting Angel out as well. I have convinced The Squeeze that we have to watch the two in conjunction. Personally, Angel was the only thing that kept me with Buffy at the end there. Buffy herself craps me to tears – she’s such a whingey little ho…
*I want to make a dumb joke about female fans, woman-friendly telly and synchronised menstrual cycles, but I can’t quite manage it…

perhaps the most useless site ever…

cyclovia will be on the 28th of May in the ‘wick. Now, I already consider Sydney Road my own private cyclovia, but it seems the pedders are getting into the action on that day.
the deal: I know, it only tells you what a stupid cyclovia is below the crease, but still. Just cause you can ride a bike, don’t mean you got basic internet skills. ha!
basically, they close the road off to cars for 6 hours between Moreland and Brunswick Rds. Sounds like Sydney Rd Festival without the stalls (although…. if I know Brunswick, there’ll be stalls galore). Also sounds a bit like a bit PR stunt for the local MPs. The cyclovia thing does have international precedents, though, and I should perhaps be more positive about this.
Anyhoo, sounds good if you live nearby. But I’m interested in the local residents’ responses…

gastropod friday – last week

Forgot to note: bought some ace pancetta from nino and joe’s last week, then chopped up a bunch, fried it in virgin olive oil and garlic, added a hydro tomato, then some baby spinach and rocket and a bit of dried chilli. Served with pasta from pasta man, local parmesan on top, and some lovely fresh bread from the mediterranean supermarket.
It was so wonderful i nearly died. Fat? Hell YEAH! We’re not babies here! That pancetta is the serious shit (I’m pronouncing it the way everyone in Brunswick does – pan-che-tta – as I type). It has such a … robust. I have to say robust, even though it’s wanky food talk. It’s saltier and gamey-er than bacon, and has a more full-on flavour than insipid bacony rubbish. You don’t need as much in your dish, and it has a more fierce taste that really works well with stronger flavoured Italian greens or cheeses. I hadn’t cooked it before. It comes in a piece, a bit like spec (specula? that bacony-type thing), sort of like the bit of bacon rashers that’s not the eye. Well, the piece I bought was. It’s darker than bacon, keeps for aaaaages, is kind of greazy but is harder than bacon. I guess it’s cured for longer. One piece cost me $4 (or 6, I forget) and lasted me 2 dinners. Dunno how much it weighed.
The local parmesan is stinking out the fridge.

benny goodman the vampire slayer


Today I picked up the complete RCA Victor Benny Goodman small group recordings (3 cds, $45, see ya later DJing money) and it ROCKS. I love early Benny Goodman so much. And this trio and quartet stuff makes me want to weep with joy. I also really really like the Sextet stuff, but, well, they’re not on this awesome collection. It really rocks: Lionel Hampton on vibraphone (!! I LOVE Hamp a crazylot), Gene Krupa on drums, Teddy Wilson on piano and Goodman on clarinet (of course). This stuff was so radical and amazing at the time – musically it was unique and exciting, socially the group was way radical, with 2 black doods and 2 white in the one band, on stage together, at a time when segregation was legally enforced in much of the USA. We’re talking about the 30s here, and the group were edited out of the films they starred in for films screened in the south of the US.
Musically, it’s fascinating stuff. The way those doods work together is awesome.
Yeah, so I’m loving this set. I was describing its wonderfulness to The Squeeze here, while he lay under the chenille bedspread reading a book about computers and I counted bpms: it’s a nicely packaged set, with nice black and white photos of the band. Krupa and Hamp are grinning like crazy people and Goodman and Wilson are more reserved. There are even photos of the band on the cds. Which prompted The Squeeze’s statement “like Buffy. Benny Goodman the vampire slayer.”
Well, I guess so. Into each generation a chosen one is born.

variety show

Name – Artist – Album – BPM – Year
Fine Brown Frame – Buddy Johnson and His Orchestra – Walk ‘Em – 113 – 1945
Undecided Blues – Count Basie and His Orchestra with Jimmy Rushing Cutting Butter – The Complete Columbia Recordings 1939 – 1942 (disc 03) – 120 – 1941
Spinnin’ The Webb – Chick Webb and his Orchestra – Stompin’ at the Savoy – 134 – 2002
Don’t Falter At The Altar – Cab Calloway Are You Hep to the Jive? – 138 – 1994
Jersey Bounce – Benny Goodman and His Band – Benny Goodman the Collection – 137 – 2004
Shoutin’ Blues Count Basie and His Orchestra Kansas City Powerhouse 148 1949
I Love Being Here With You – Ernestine Anderson – 135
Bli-Blip – Lincoln Centre Jazz Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis – Live in Swing City: Swingin’ with Duke – 134 – 1999
Nice Work If You Can Get It – Sarah Vaughan – Ladies Sing the Blues (volume 1) – 145 – 2000
Love Me or Leave Me – Jennie Löbel and Swing Kings – He Ain’t Got Rhythm – 128 – 2001
Every Day I Have The Blues – Count Basie – Breakfast Dance and Barbecue – 116 – 1959
C-Jam Blues – Lincoln Centre Jazz Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis Live in Swing City: Swingin’ with Duke – 143 – 1999
Shufflin’ And Rollin’ – Buddy Johnson and His Orchestra – Walk ‘Em – 153 – 1952
Four Or Five Times – Lionel Hampton and His Orchestra – Tempo and Swing – 189 – 1939
Apollo Jump – Lucky Millinder – Apollo Jump – 143
Lavender Coffin – Lionel Hampton, etc – Lionel Hampton Story 4: Midnight Sun – 138 – 1949
Be Careful (If You Can’t Be Good) – Buddy Johnson and His Orchestra – Walk ‘Em – 121 – 1951
Til My Baby Comes Back – Ella Johnson with Buddy Johnson and His Orchestra – Walk ‘Em – 118 – 1952
Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby? – Dinah Washington – The Swingin’ Miss “D” – 140 – 1956
Blues In Hoss’ Flat – Count Basie – Big Band Renaissance Disc 1 – 142 – 1995
Till Tom Special – Lionel Hampton and His Orchestra – Tempo and Swing – 158 – 1940
Flying Home – Lionel Hampton and His Orchestra – Lionel Hampton Story 2: Flying Home – 197 – 1942
Tippin’ In – Erskine Hawkins and His Orchestra – Tuxedo Junction – 144 – 1942
For Dancers Only – Jimmie Lunceford and His Orchestra – Swingsation – Jimmie Lunceford – 154 – 1937
That’s my set from last week (Thurs 11th May, first set, 8.30-10pm). It went down a treat. After analysing it in painful detail here, I notice how frequently I repeat myself. So I played a total of 24 songs. Four were by Basie, 4 by Buddy Johnson (of the one album, no less), 4 were by Lionel Hampton. That’s scary. 12 songs by only 3 artists. I mean, I did wander all over their careers with these jobbies – they’re not all from the one year or anything. But still. I need more variety.
HA.
That issue of variety has been cropping up on Swing Talk a lot lately, mostly from a couple (literally 2) of dickheads demanding we play ‘more variety’. By variety they mean Royal Crown Revue

could this be cabin fever?

It’s cold and windy (ah, the downside of Melbourne in the autumn – overcast skies, endless Antarctican winds, rain. rain. rain),
I have some serious muscle tension in my right shoulder/back/neck which is trying to become a headache,
I’m worried about an article I have to submit on the 20th which isn’t re-edited yet (because my supervisor(s) can’t keep up with my prodigiously productive brain. hell, my productivity is scaring even me at the moment),
our lounge room is full of drying laundry that smells odd,
I’m in that difficult blanket – quilt interum period, where it’s too hot for a proper quilt, but too cold for less than 6 blankets (whose weight no doubt contributes to my muscle tension, seeing as how I can’t roll over in bed as I’m pinned to the mattress by 60million blankets) so I’m not sleeping properly, or having weirdo, too-hot dreams about superheroes (all sans cape),
I’m sewing obsessively (they’re nice camel needle cord trousers. why thankyou, but it’s not camel – it’s sand. only $4 a metre),
I can’t face cooking or doing the washing up (Saigon City, you are going Down – no more home deliver for US, thank you very much),
mysterious boxes keep arriving (as per usual – I see the parcel guy nearly every day), but they’re never for me (seeing as how I can’t afford to buy anything more often than once every couple of months – and then only cheap CDs) and they’re never worth opening as they’re always cords or bits of computer and boring if you’re not an uber-nerd,
did I mention the muscle tension? ow! Dang, I need more exercise, but anxiety-induced malaise and autumn weather are not condusive to long bike rides or step-step-triple-step practice,
I love my yoga mat, especially now it no longer smells weird. Was it wrong to hose it in the backyard?
I’ve just read some fascinating articles on the phenomenology stuff, but half of me is distressed because it’s way too late in the thesis progress to discover important articles and I’m not sure I’m buying this bullshit phenomenology crap,
I think I have that thing where 9months pregnant women suddenly aren’t sure they want to go through with this. What will I do without my thesis? You know you have to give it away as soon as it’s done, don’t you?
I’m partway through a crazed Buffy re-veiwing obsessession. Somewhere in season 3 (best season ever), and I’m still getting at least one good scare (though usually 2-3) for each 2 episodes we watch a night. I get startled/scared easily. I think it’s because, when we were young, my brother and I went through a prolonge phase of scaring the bejesus out of each other. We’d wait behind doors or under beds and then jump out at the other, yelling “YAH!” to scare the other. And it worked. Thing is, the more scares you get, the more easily scared you are. Plus there’s the whole anticipationn-of-a-scare thing. I mean, we both thought it was neat, even when we were scared and angry-laughingly chasing the other round the house for retribution. But still. I’m still a trembly leaf person. And I’ve noted that (having just leapt out of the larder at our p’s house, after huddling silently in wait for ages, fleeing from my life from my hulking younger brother, both of us giggling like fools, leaping cats and ignoring shouted ‘stop shouting! calm down!’ threats from the ps) that he’s just as susceptible to the scare as I am. What have we done to each other? Made it impossible to watch scary films? Or perhaps made scary films that much more exciting for ourselves?
I’m dancing like crap. Like real, terrible, awful crap. I need to work on my dancing to get better, but it’s just not a priority in my life at the moment (not when I have trousers to make).
could this be cabin fever?
yoga. I need yoga. Thank god class is on tonight!

no capes!


Riding in to town the other day I passed a goth chick in full ensemble who reminded me why the no capes rule for superheroes is as applicable for cyclists. Floor length velvet or no.

gastropod friday

Today is, as declared in previous entries and enthusiastically promoted by galaxy gastropod friday.
I haven’t a whole lot of impressive things to say, what with Friday usually being ‘eat out day’ because it’s the end of the week and we’re tired.
But.
Yesterday I went to the pasta dood over on Lygon St (upper Lygon St, thanks, not that tourist trap end) and spent another ridiculous sum. Mostly because The Squeeze had pleaded tearfully with me to buy him some more fresh pasta from the man.
The pasta shop is great. It only sells pasta, a couple of cheeses, olive oil and tomato paste. If it sold garlic, we’d be set. It might, actually, but I haven’t seen it.
They sell mostly plain pasta, but in every single size and shape, dry (still better than store-bought pasta), frozen (mostly filled, and including gnocchi to die for) and fresh (all in trays like ham at the deli – you buy by the weight). I bought a kilo (or half a kilo?) of frozen cheese-filled round ravioli things (I can’t remember their names – I’ll have to check), a kilo of dry curly-edged fettucini (like parpadelle, but narrower), a kilo of half-circle tubes with frilly edges (dry). I figured it was time to stop at $20, even though the pasta man, once again, was disappointed in my failure to purchase fresh pasta. But I couldn’t be sure of when we’d eat it, and I was running out of room in my backpack.
This pasta is amazing. It’s not a chic, foody-porn shop like the ones in lower Lygon St, with fancy ‘hand tooled’ wooden shelves and quaintly aproned middle aged maggie beer types. It’s got white tiles on most surfaces, big freezers with semi-legible hand-scrawled tags that don’t actually list all the pasta available (but that’s ok as the dood follows you around, fetching stuff out for you), and stacks and stacks of piles of pasta all over the place. There are some wooden shelves, but they’re stacked with bags of pasta, so I’m not sure how chic they are. This is pasta-ville. And you can get decent olive oil (though everyone who Knows pops over to the Mediterranean Supermarket for oil – Note To Self: buy tin of virgin olive oil NOW).
The best bit is the old dood serving you. Quite often when I arrive and push through the not-chic plastic anti-fly strips in the doorway, he’s sitting on a stool in the kitchen area out the back napping. I make sure to stomp so he hears me. I should yell out ‘bon gorno!’ like everyone else in Brunswick, but I’m shy. Then he walks out a little unsteadily to help. He is REALLY old. And really helpful. He knows pasta like nobody knows pastas. He’s also Italian (duh). And nice. And very old-school gentleman, so he’s a little ruffled by the way I stuff everything into my bike and then take it all out to lug on the bike home. We have shared a few chuckles over my having to ride really fast so my frozen stuff doesn’t melt on summer days.
Anyhoo, after that, I busted in on a new veggie shop over the road where i wrangled free home delivery for my goodies from a Russian chick who scared me a bit. It’s cheaper than La Manna, but doesn’t have the range. But still, home delivery. It’s good. Seeing as how I can’t carry all our veggies home in my backpack with pasta.
Then it was off to the IGA on Sydney Rd near Albion St for ‘local’ parmesan. I don’t know what ‘local’ means, but it’s some awesome stinky shit. Hey, anyone know what the difference between pecorino and parmesan is? I also bought some procutio, some ham, some awesome mozarella, some spicey sausage slices (dunno the name), some semi-dried tomatos, forgot to count varieties of olives (there are 12 at the safeway near the bike path), got some shitty skip wafer biscuits (i couldn’t find the italian ones which rock – need to go to the med. sup.) and went home.
We had less than excellent pizza (Squeeze liked it, I wasn’t convinced) that night and enjoyed all that good shit.
But tonight is pasta night. Filled pasta with some little meat balls I made a while ago with Nino and Joe mince (man they rocked!) and froze raw. They’ll be served with either a tomatoey sauce or a spinachy one. I will see how I feel. If I’d remembered I’d have picked up some boconcini to make yum-o basil, tomato, baby spinach and boconcini salad as well.
So I guess it really was a gastropod Thursday, what with me stuffing all that goodness into my excellent backpack. I was a little, wheeled snail with a house full of food on my back.